


The Prince of the City

by menel



Category: Kindred: The Embraced
Genre: Episode Related, Episode Tag, First Time, M/M, mild blood play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 16:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5593276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Eddie Fiore’s final failed attempt to takeover the city, Julian spends some quality time with his Chief of Security while Cash realizes that his feelings for Julian run much deeper than his loyalty to the Prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince of the City

**Author's Note:**

> Episode tag to 1x06 The Rise and Fall of Eddie Fiore.

The hand on his shoulder shouldn’t have taken Cash by surprise, but it did. He tensed reflexively, but even the imminent danger that he was in wasn’t enough to overcome his grief – his devastating, overwhelming grief. His life was forfeit and the Assamite assassin had come to claim it. Cash would welcome the release. He had failed his Prince. Whatever doubts and anger he’d harbored against Julian for the brutal murder of his sire, Stevie Ray, had long since vanished. Cash knew with certainty where his loyalty – where his love – lay. He’d feared for Julian’s life since learning that an Assamite assassin had been contracted to kill the Prince. Assamites were the most feared assassins among all the clans. There was only one way this could end. The Assamite had already gotten close to Julian once before. It would not fail a second time. Cash had been so concerned about the assassin that he’d neglected Eddie Fiore – the Brujah scum who’d challenged Julian from the beginning, who continually sought to break the peace and claim the title of Prince for himself. Eddie Fiore was a thug, greedy and power-hungry, but Cash never believed for a moment that the Brujah Primogen would be stupid or reckless enough to try and kill Julian in his own home. Eddie Fiore didn’t have that kind of balls. But Cash had been wrong. So very wrong. He gently laid Julian’s body on the floor. He felt streaks of moisture on his face and he wiped away the blood tears with the back of his hand. 

“Cash.” 

The hand on his shoulder squeezed and Cash startled, not just at the sound of his name but more at the familiar timber of the voice. Disbelievingly, and with a hope that threatened to choke him, Cash turned to his right. It couldn’t be. 

“Julian,” he breathed. 

The Prince smiled at him and Cash began to breathe a little easier. Julian lifted his hand from Cash’s shoulder but before he could pull away, Cash grabbed the Prince’s hand with both of his own. He needed to reassure himself of Julian’s presence, that this wasn’t some kind of illusion or hallucination brought on by grief; that some kind of alchemy wasn’t at work. Julian felt solid enough to him. Without thinking Cash bent down and placed a reverential kiss on the Prince’s hand. Just a few months ago he would’ve scorned the idea of kissing Julian’s hand, of showing such submission. Now he offered his loyalty freely, thankful that he still had the opportunity to do so. How things had changed. He felt Julian’s other hand on the back of his head, slowing moving downwards until it rested as a welcome weight on his nape. It made Cash want to curl into Julian’s touch. He felt the power of the Prince, felt his seduction like a magnetic force. Cash wanted to succumb but now was not the time. He lifted his head, still not relinquishing Julian’s hand. 

“I don’t understand,” he said. 

Julian nodded in the direction of the body on the floor. Cash looked down. Instead of Julian’s form, he saw the body of the Assamite assassin. 

“Eddie Fiore killed his own assassin,” Julian explained. 

There was a touch of mocking amusement in his voice that made Cash’s heart clench. Did Julian think so little of his own life? Didn’t he understand how close to death he had actually been? But Julian must’ve sensed his anger and shame at his own failure because the hand that had rested on his neck now cradled his cheek and Cash didn’t hesitate to lean into the touch. 

“The only way she could get close enough to you was to shape shift into me,” Julian said slowly. “She would’ve killed you too. We have much to thank Eddie Fiore for.” 

Cash chuckled in spite of himself. Julian’s presence was comforting. He hadn’t realized until that moment how safe the Prince made him feel – how safe the Prince made all the Kindred feel. Unlike Archon, Julian didn’t rule by force. He had the respect and loyalty of all the clans, but he enforced Kindred laws swiftly and decisively. It was Julian’s strength and resolve that maintained the peace in the city. 

“We should let the others know that you’re alive,” Cash said, pulling himself together. 

“No,” Julian said with a sternness that made Cash look at him. “I have to stay dead a while longer.”

* * * * *

Cash wasn’t play-acting when one of Eddie Fiore’s Brujah thugs pushed him back into his chair. Fiore laughed and mocked him for his loyalty. Cash felt his heart harden with ice as he glared at the Brujah Primogen. What was that saying? Revenge is a dish best served cold. He smiled inwardly. Fiore would get what was coming to him, a lot sooner than the fool realized. Let him gloat in his false victory. It would all come crumbling down tonight.

Cash let his gaze roam around the hastily formed conclave, if it could be called such. The four Primogens sat in a semi-circle in Fiore’s office by the docks, each Primogen flanked on both sides by a Brujah enforcer. Beside Cash was the beautiful Lillie Langtry, Primogen of the Toreador clan and Julian’s long-time lover. Cash could feel the cold fury emanating from her, fury that eclipsed his own, though she sat perfectly still and elegant in her chair. Fiore had many enemies and they were all poised to strike. He had gone too far by murdering Julian. He would never be able to maintain peace in the city. 

As if on cue, Daedalus, the Primogen of the Nosferatu clan launched a series of invectives at the would-be Prince. His words were fighting words, and it was only the placating hand of Archon Raine, the Primogen of the Ventrue clan and Julian’s sire, that eventually calmed the Nosferatu down. 

“You’re a very wise man, Archon,” Eddie Fiore said in a tone of false praise. “You always side with a winner.” 

Fiore began his pitch then, citing his claim to the title of Prince as the strongest among them. Cash wanted to laugh. Brujah trash. Thugs and mobsters, the lot of them. They endangered the Masquerade more than any other clan. It was hard to believe that they had once been scholars and philosophers. That had been during the Ancient times, generations before Cash had been embraced. That Brujah legacy had long since died. 

Now Eddie was holding out his hand, waiting for the other Primogens to demonstrate their loyalty to him. 

“Does anyone challenge me?” he asked into the silence of the room. 

No one had expected a response, no one that is, except Cash. 

“I challenge you.” 

The shock reverberated as quickly as the guns that were raised. Julian Luna stood in the doorway, a retinue of his personal guard surrounding him. The Brujah enforcers, who had automatically turned at the sound of his voice with their weapons raised, froze. They looked at their Primogen uncertainly before lowering their guns. Luna’s men did the same without being told. Eddie Fiore’s face had contorted with rage, but it was Lillie who broke the silence. 

“Julian,” she gasped. “But how?” 

“Last night, Eddie Fiore killed his own assassin,” Julian replied, echoing the words he’d spoken to Cash the evening before. Cash felt his chest swell with an unexpected pride. He had kept Julian’s secret. While the rest of the Kindred had mourned the death of their Prince, Julian had entrusted him with that secret. 

What happened next was almost too swift to process. Eddie Fiore stormed forward ready to fight Julian for control of the city, but before he could do anything Lillie had drawn the ornamental sword from Eddie’s cabinet and cleanly sliced the Brujah Primogen’s head from his shoulders. The tension left the room then to be replaced by a combination of horror, awe and satisfaction at the Toreador Primogen’s action. Cyrus, the Prince of Los Angeles, who also coveted the city of San Francisco, beat a hasty retreat leaving the body of his childe decapitated on the floor. 

“I will accept any Primogen you nominate,” Julian was saying, seamlessly taking charge and addressing the members of the Brujah clan in the room. “But choose wisely,” he warned.

* * * * *

Cash drove Julian home. Lillie rode in the same car as them, which was to be expected. Through the rearview mirror, Cash stole secret glances at his occupants in the backseat. They seemed distant to each other, as though an invisible impasse separated them. Cash couldn’t understand why. Lillie looked contrite, almost sorrowful, despite her spectacular display of loyalty and justice at the conclave. Julian barely acknowledged her presence, his gaze permanently fixed on the passing San Francisco streets. But when Lillie reached for his hand, the Prince did not pull away.

* * * * *

Cash had finished making the rounds of the estate. Everything was securely locked, all sentries at their posts. He could turn in – probably should turn in – but he felt restless. He made his way to the den to pour himself two fingers of Scotch. When he’d first assumed the post of Julian’s Chief of Security, stepping in for his murdered Sire, Cash had found Julian’s lifestyle to be decadent – too decadent for his liking. Suddenly, he was surrounded by luxury and too much space, the finest that life had to offer. He scoffed at it all and vowed that being around these privileged snobs wouldn’t make him soft. Cash didn’t think he’d gone soft, not in the months he’d been living on the estate, but he had begun to appreciate some of the perks. Better weapons, for one. Better alcohol, for another. He smiled as he took a drink.

“Cash.” 

Cash froze, the edge of the tumbler at his lips before he downed the rest of the whisky in one go. He wasn’t too sure how Julian would feel about him openly raiding Julian’s private stash. He thought the Prince had already retired. 

“Pour me one of those, would you?” Julian said off-handedly. 

_Well_ , Cash thought. _I guess that answers that._ He took out another glass and poured Julian the same two fingers. When he turned around the Prince was already standing behind him. Cash wondered if the envy and admiration showed on his face. Even with his heightened senses, he hadn’t heard Julian approach. 

“No refill for yourself?” Julian inquired as Cash handed over the glass. Their fingers brushed briefly during the exchange. 

“I’m good,” Cash replied. 

Julian was standing very close to him, not close enough to breach his personal space, but closer than usual. Cash felt like he ought to step away, to increase the distance between them, except that the bar was directly behind him, and even if it weren’t . . . 

Julian took a slow drink, his eyes never leaving Cash’s face. Cash felt the burn of that scrutiny and he unconsciously shifted his weight. Julian’s actions were deliberate as he lowered the glass and Cash hated that he’d automatically zeroed in on Julian’s lips, on the slight glistening of the amber liquid there. It made Cash thirsty. 

“I never did thank you last night,” Julian was saying. “For your discretion.” 

Cash tried to shrug casually. “You didn’t have to,” he said. 

“And your service.” 

Cash tore his gaze away from Julian’s mouth and looked into the Prince’s eyes. “That’s what I do,” he said. “It’s my job,” he added as a kind of clarification. The word ‘service’ suddenly seemed ambiguous to him. He was here to serve Julian – to serve the Prince – but until tonight he’d never dwelled on the idea that there were many different kinds of service. 

“You perform it well,” Julian commended. 

Cash’s mouth almost dropped open. Was Julian baiting him? Was there some kind of double entendre to be found there? The Prince’s eyes were warm dark pools, laughing at his expense even as his expression remained neutral. Cash’s thirst grew, as did the desire that was building in his blood. 

“I think I’ll have that refill after all,” he said faintly. 

Before Cash could turn around and pour himself another drink, Julian had pushed his own glass into Cash’s hand. Cash accepted the proffered glass, not even bothering to minimize the contact between them. He remembered how he’d instinctively grasped Julian’s hand the night before, how he’d clung onto it, willing Julian to be real and alive before he’d bent down to kiss it – to offer his service. 

Reluctantly, he pulled the glass from Julian’s grasp. His thirst was overpowering and no amount of Scotch was going to sate it. Julian was speaking again as Cash savored the amber liquid. 

“Last night,” Julian said slowly. “The depth of your grief surprised me.” 

“That makes two of us,” Cash answered. He’d drained the glass dry and still the thirst burned. 

“It moved me,” Julian added. He paused, watching Cash carefully. “We’ve come a long way, you and I.” 

Cash finally looked up. “I guess we have,” he agreed. He wished he’d changed into more comfortable attire. He was still wearing the body-fitting long-sleeved black sweater, and the two holsters strapped around his back were starting to feel constricting. If Julian was aware of his discomfort and the fact that he was contributing to it, the Prince gave no sign. 

All of a sudden, Julian stepped away and the small space that opened between them felt like an expanse to Cash. He stopped himself from instinctively closing the gap, one hand finding the edge of the bar behind him for support while the other still held Julian’s glass. 

“I take it you’ve done the rounds.” 

Julian’s tone had shifted, as had his demeanor. He was changing the subject onto more official affairs, onto matters where the boundaries were clear. Cash recognized an out when he saw one, but to his own surprise, he wasn’t sure if he was going to take it. 

“Everything’s secure,” he heard himself say, following Julian’s lead. 

Julian nodded. “Good,” he said with a slight nod. He was about to turn away; Cash knew it in his blood. The moment was slipping from his grasp. 

Before Julian could move away, Cash reached out and grasped his forearm, halting the Prince. “Is there anything else you need?” he asked quietly. 

Julian glanced down at the firm hand on his arm before he looked at the young Primogen. His gaze was calculating, assessing. “What are you offering?” he asked at last, just as quietly. 

For a moment, Cash was at a loss until the answer came to him in a moment of clarity. “My service,” he said simply. He watched as the warmth came back into the Prince’s eyes, this time accompanied by a smile and a low chuckle. 

“You Gangrels,” Julian said with a shake of his head. “You can still surprise me.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Cash answered somewhat dryly. He hadn’t loosened his grip on Julian’s arm. This time when Julian cradled his cheek, Cash welcomed it and leaned into the touch. 

“Come to me tonight if you wish,” Julian said, voice low and rich with promise. “You are under no obligation to do so,” he added. “And I will not take offense if you change your mind.” 

Cash opened his eyes, unaware that he’d closed them. “Gangrels are known for their conviction,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

“And their stubbornness,” Julian returned, but the comment was said with good humor. He leaned forward and Cash’s breathing hitched at the anticipation of a kiss, but Julian stopped short of brushing lips against lips. Instead, he held his position and Cash tilted his head, baring his neck in offering. The expected tearing of flesh never came. Julian seemed content to breathe in his scent. Cash breathed deeply as well. The Prince was intoxicating. 

Just as quickly, Julian released him and Cash felt his loss acutely. Julian gave him one final nod before leaving the room. Cash stood for a while against the bar, absently turning the empty glass in his hand. He’d decided to pour himself one final tumbler of whisky when another voice stopped him. 

“We all wind up in his bed eventually.” 

Cash looked to the entrance of the den where Lillie was leaning against the doorway. She’d already changed and was wearing a red silk robe. Cash tried not to think about what the lovely Toreador may – or may not – have been wearing underneath the crimson robe. 

“Come again?” he said. 

“I said,” Lillie repeated, entering the room. “That we all wind up in his bed eventually.” 

She shrugged. The gestured appeared disinterested but Cash knew there was something there. Lillie had been different these past few weeks. He’d wondered if Julian had ended things with her as his interest in that human reporter, Caitlin Byrne, continued to grow. Cash knew that Julian’s relationship with Lillie was so long standing that he’d assumed that they’d both taken other lovers to bed but would always circle back to each other somehow. They were both older than him, and that’s the way it seemed to work with the Elders. Cash wouldn’t know. He didn’t believe in relationships. Well, not until Sasha came along and look how that turned out. He ruthlessly quashed the voice that warned him he’d be cheating on her if he went to Julian tonight. 

“I guess you’re speaking from experience,” he said off-handedly, trying to match Lillie’s level of disinterest. He turned around and poured himself that third round and drank it down in one go. “I’m not trying to replace you,” he said, staring straight ahead. The mirror behind the bar showed both their reflections as Lillie had come to stand beside him. 

She smiled. “You could never do that,” she said, her voice sparkling with amusement. 

“Precisely,” Cash said, finally turning to his left so he could look the Toreador Primogen in the eye. “You’re an amazing, beautiful woman, Lillie. The best of our kind. Jealousy doesn’t suit you.” 

Cash left her at the bar to dwell on his words.

* * * * *

The double doors that led to Julian’s rooms were open. Julian didn’t have a bedroom per se, more like a suite of rooms on the third floor. Cash had never been beyond the main sitting room, but he didn’t expect the Prince to be lounging on a sofa watching the news tonight. He knew that Julian’s bedroom was to the left of the sitting room and after shutting the main doors behind him, Cash headed that way. His nerves were coming back, and as compelling as his newfound attraction to the Prince was, he had no idea what the hell he was doing here.

He stood at the entrance to the Prince’s bedroom and the first thing that caught his attention was the king-sized bed in front of him – the _empty_ king-sized bed. The sight gave him pause. There was still time to backtrack. 

_I will not take offense if you change your mind._

Too late. The click of a light switch being turned off alerted Cash to Julian emerging from the bathroom. He half expected Julian to be naked or tantalizingly wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist. He would be sorely disappointed. Julian had shed his jacket and tie, discarded his shoes and socks, but he was still wearing his suit pants and blue silk shirt, although the top two buttons were undone. The Prince looked like he was getting ready for bed whether or not he had been expecting Cash to turn up in his bedroom. 

“Can I get you another drink?” Julian asked as he passed by Cash’s leaning figure. “You look like you need something stronger than what we had downstairs.”

“What’ve you got?” Cash asked in return, finally stepping inside the room. He’d stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide his growing anxiety. He was thankful that his voice remained steady and cool, as if all this were just another Wednesday night. 

“Something more potent than Scotch,” Julian answered. 

Cash watched as Julian went to a side table where there was a decanter of brandy and poured two glasses. He soon discovered that it was a decanter of brandy chased with blood, one of the few ways in which Kindred could truly feel the effects of alcohol. Their bodies no longer processed alcohol the way human bodies did. The amount of pure alcohol they’d have to drink in order to feel its effects would be considered toxic by human standards. No, if a Kindred truly wanted to get drunk they chased their alcohol with blood, though nothing beat drinking straight from the tap of an inebriated person. It was the same with drugs, but somehow Cash thought that Julian would disapprove of that practice. Eddie Fiore was right about one thing – Julian was very fond of the humans. 

Julian clinked his glass lightly against Cash’s and held it up briefly in a toast, though he didn’t say anything and Cash did the same. Then they were both drinking the blood chased brandy, Cash feeling a pleasant buzz immediately. This was far stronger than the whisky. He smiled in approval. Then Julian was settling on one side of the bed, leaning against the headboard as he stretched out, ankles crossed, and a glass of brandy in one hand. He was watching Cash again. 

Cash drank some more of his liquid courage before joining Julian on the bed, sitting on the edge but near enough that Julian could easily reach out and touch him. He kept his gaze focused on the liquid in his glass. 

“Having second thoughts?” Julian asked, breaking the silence. 

“No,” Cash automatically answered. For all his anxiety, it was the truth. “I was just thinking about something Lillie said downstairs.” 

“Enlighten me.” 

“She said, ‘We all wind up in your bed, eventually.’” Cash turned to look at Julian. “Is that true?” 

Julian had the good grace not to deny it, nor to brag about it. Instead, he tilted his head and said with a faint smile, “Everyone except Daedalus.” 

The joke eased what was left of Cash’s tension and he laughed. “Sleeping with your Nosferatu butler would be in poor taste,” he agreed. 

“Sleeping with my Nosferatu _best friend_ would be even stranger,” Julian added. 

“You and Daedalus are very close,” Cash commented. 

“We share a long history,” Julian said, finally reaching out and running a hand down Cash’s spine. Cash practically arched into the touch. “It is our friendship and Daedalus’s leadership that has allowed the Nosferatu clan to come out into the light, to change their standing among the other clans.” 

“They’re also powerful allies,” Cash pointed out. “Everyone fears them. Even the Brujah clan wouldn’t dare go against them.”

“The Nosferatu are fierce warriors,” Julian said. “And dangerous alchemists. But their best trait? Loyalty.” 

Cash had turned so that he was sitting facing Julian, one arm slung around the Prince’s body to balance his weight. “I can be loyal,” he said, seriously. 

“I have never doubted your loyalty,” Julian told him. 

Cash arched a questioning eyebrow. “Even in the beginning?” he asked. 

“From the moment you accepted my offer,” was Julian’s response. 

Then Cash was leaning in – it felt like falling to him – seeking Julian’s lips. He found them and tasted the brandy chased blood in the Prince’s mouth, a taste that was reflected in his own. Julian let him take control of the kiss and Cash felt emboldened by the permission. He broke it to put his unfinished glass on the bedside table, taking Julian’s glass from him and doing the same. Then he was slipping off the holsters across his back, dropping the guns carelessly to the floor. He kicked off his shoes before he straddled the Prince, pulling the sweater over his head and tossing it to the side as he did so. 

“Well, you don’t waste any time,” Julian remarked, sounding distinctly amused. 

Cash shrugged. “Why should we?” he questioned, hands busy undoing his belt. 

“Let me do that,” Julian offered, stilling Cash’s actions. 

Now that Julian was taking care of that Cash took the opportunity to lean forward and seal their lips again. He hadn’t imagined that kissing Julian would be so addictive. Again, the Prince let him take the lead, making Cash wonder how long that would last. It wasn’t until Julian fisted the base of his cock that Cash broke the kiss with a gasp. 

“Now’s probably a good time to tell you that I have no idea what I’m doing,” he admitted, not without considerable embarrassment as he felt Julian’s fangs grazing the side of his jaw. Cash steeled himself for the inevitable barbed joke about inexperience or worse, being a blushing virgin. That’s what a fellow Gangrel would’ve done, but Cash forgot that Julian wasn’t one of his clan. 

“Then let me guide you,” the Prince said simply. All the while his hand continued to work on Cash’s cock with smooth even strokes, occasionally smearing the leaking precum from the tip with his thumb down the length to act as a temporary lubricant. 

Cash could only nod, too occupied with unbuttoning the rest of Julian’s silk shirt. Julian was far too clothed for someone about to have sex. It was only when Julian’s shirt was off and Cash was finally free to explore the toned chest in front of him that he gave Julian’s words some thought. 

_Let me guide you._

What would it have been like if Julian had been his sire he wondered, even as he bent down to chase invisible patterns with his lips against Julian’s skin. He had loved Stevie Ray – he loved him still – but things with Julian would’ve been different, to be reborn in this life as Julian’s childe. He would have different blood flowing through his veins, less hotheaded, less rebellious, more levelheaded, more cunning and manipulative. The Ventrue were known for their professionalism. They were businessmen and politicians, and while Cash could never see himself in either of those professions that didn’t mean he didn’t admire the strengths and qualities that the Ventrue possessed. It was no coincidence that the last two Princes had come from the Ventrue clan. They were born to lead. 

“Did you lock the main doors?” Julian asked, pulling Cash up again for another kiss. 

“Afraid that Lillie will walk in on us?” Cash couldn’t help but tease. 

“No,” Julian replied. “But Archon might.”

Cash chuckled at first, but then sat up when he realized that Julian’s wasn’t joking. “Really?” he said, slightly concerned. He would’ve taken a selfish pleasure in Lillie walking in on them, but Archon? 

“My sire doesn’t care much for personal boundaries,” Julian explained. 

That sealed the deal. Cash was about to get up and lock the doors when Julian deftly switched their positions and Cash found himself flat on his back instead. He’d temporarily forgotten the older Kindred’s strength and speed. 

“Let Archon have a little surprise,” Julian said, pulling off Cash’s pants and briefs. “His chances of walking in here are minimal, at best.” 

“Look who’s eager now,” Cash said lasciviously, helping Julian with his belt and pants. 

The Prince paused, leaning over Cash predatorily. “You’re sure about this?” he said, all humor gone from his voice. 

Cash nodded. “Grangels,” he began. 

“Have conviction,” Julian finished for him with a smile. “Very well.” 

“I’m no fledgling,” Cash would say, his last burst of petulance before he found himself melting into Julian’s experienced touch. 

“We’ll see,” Julian replied. 

It sounded like a promise or a challenge. Cash was no longer certain. All he was aware of was the desire thrumming through his body, and the blood lust building in his veins. Then there were Julian’s hands and his mouth, the graze of his fangs that teased the breaking of flesh but never did until the fine pinpricks on the tip of Cash’s cock that had him arching off the bed at the unexpected flare of pain and pleasure. The scent of blood – _his_ blood – assaulted his senses as it trailed down his skin. Julian lapped at it delicately before he swallowed Cash whole, firmly holding Cash’s hips down as he arched again into the inviting cavern of Julian’s mouth. 

“Julian.” 

He whispered the name almost reverentially. Slick fingers were probing him, stretching him in places that he’d never touched himself before. Cash pushed the discomfort aside. The intrusion wasn’t painful, just . . . strange. Then there was a jolt, a flash of electricity that seemed to travel up his spine, followed by another and another as questing fingers continued to massage his prostrate. Ah, so this was why . . . 

“Julian.” 

There was more urgency now, something close to pleading in Cash’s tone. He was pulling Julian down to him, hands gripping hard enough that they would leave bruises on mortal flesh. Something thicker than those questing fingers was entering him, slow and smooth like Julian’s even strokes on his cock. Cash willed himself to relax even as his body tried to clench against the intrusion. When Julian bottomed out, he wrapped his legs around the other man’s waist locking him in place. He had never felt so full, so complete. 

“When you’re near,” Julian whispered into his ear. “Bite down.” 

Cash didn’t have to be told, but he was thankful that Julian had given him permission. He wouldn’t have dared otherwise, even if it reduced him to a begging, incoherent mess. Julian began moving then, shallow thrusts at first that steadily grew in intensity. This wasn’t gentle lovemaking and Cash snarled in response, shifting his weight and gripping the headboard behind him for leverage. Julian reacted in kind, pinning Cash beneath him as he drove in harder and deeper, the headboard beating a rhythm to his thrusts. Then Cash felt that tightening in his spine that meant he was near and he bit down on the arm that Julian offered him, drinking deeply of the Prince’s blood. This was bliss. This was nirvana. The richness of the blood in his mouth and an orgasm so hard that he’d come without even touching himself. He rode the crest of that wave, body arching one last time as he felt Julian spill deep within him at the same moment that the Prince bit into his shoulder. 

Later, sated and cleaned up (Julian was a considerate lover) with his head resting against the Prince’s firm abdomen, Cash lay sprawled and contented on the king-sized bed as Julian’s hand traced lazy patterns against his chest. 

“How many Gangrels have you taken to bed?” he asked out of the blue. 

“One.”

Cash turned his head in surprise. “Really?” he said in disbelief, before his smile turned devious. “So, does that mean I get to stay the night?” 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Julian tapped the space beside him and Cash moved up the bed. He curled into Julian’s side, his head resting in the crook of Julian’s shoulder and one leg tangled with the Prince’s own. 

“It will never be a quick fuck and run between us,” Julian said, one hand running through Cash’s short sandy brown hair. 

_Will never be._

Cash smiled at the knowledge that there would be another time and perhaps another after that. This wasn’t the end, but perhaps it was the beginning of something new. 

“You’re still making me feel like a fledging,” Cash half-chastised. 

“And how’s that?” Julian’s amusement was back. 

“You know how it is,” Cash replied, affecting disinterest even as he moved nearer in Julian’s embrace. “Safe. Protected. All that jazz.” 

_Loved_ , is what he didn't say. 

 

**Fin.**


End file.
